


When the Talking Stops

by bohemiantea



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Building trust, F/M, Feels, First Kiss, First Time, No one is a virgin, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Smut and Fluff, Trust Issues, Warden Has a Potty Mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 07:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13566147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bohemiantea/pseuds/bohemiantea
Summary: When Zevran offers Warden Lia Tabris a massage out in the Brecilian Forest one night, it goes in directions he was not prepared for.CW for allusions to the terrible events in the female Tabris origin, slightly embellished to include taking wounds.





	When the Talking Stops

**Author's Note:**

> "Should've known from the first time  
> You played with me like I was the devil  
> And I played with you like you were just a man  
> Wanna lay with you, but I'm never better  
> From your God, these are the days" - Laurel, "Life Worth Living"  
> https://genius.com/Laurel-life-worth-living-lyrics
> 
> "The curiousness of your potential kiss  
> Has got my mind and body aching  
> Really hurt me, baby, really cut me, baby  
> How can you have a day without a night?  
> You're the book that I have opened  
> And now I've got to know much more" - Massive Attack, "Unfinished Sympathy"  
> https://genius.com/Massive-attack-unfinished-sympathy-lyrics

Zevran watched Warden Lia Tabris scowl and poke at the campfire. She and Warden Alistair’s strange little band of followers had been grudgingly allowed to camp near the Dalish in the Brecilian Forest, and he was well aware it was mostly because of her. They had called her “cousin” to her face but he’d heard whispers of “flat-ear” directed at her and himself, hushed by those more in awe that Grey Wardens were here and trying to help that they did not want to risk offense. He did not mind – he had heard worse from the Dalish in Antiva – but it had visibly irked her. One or two of the Dalish had even sneered at the tattoos on their faces. Zevran knew the Wardens were here to recruit the Dalish with some old treaties into helping fight their war against the darkspawn, and if it hadn’t been for that, he thought perhaps Lia might have left the Dalish to their plight.

Then while scouting the forest, Lia had found a dying werewolf who called herself Danayla, and… something changed. Her dark eyes, normally flinty, shone with unshed tears as she ended the cursed woman’s life. The look on her face had stayed with him throughout the rest of the day, and he blamed that distraction when later they found the strange abandoned campsite. He should have known something was wrong and been immediately on his guard for an ambush. But all he could think of was crawling into one of the tents to sleep and think about why this woman, used to the cruelties of the alienages and her new life as a Warden, would react so to killing a miserable werewolf. She would be able to tell Danayla’s husband he could get on with his life, free from doubt.

Perhaps if Taliesin had been the only one to witness Rinna’s death, Zevran himself would not have ended up here. He, too, would be free to move forward and not burdened with the consequences of his failure. But now he had pledged Lia an oath of loyalty – his life was forfeit, he could not pledge that – and he often wasn’t sure what that would entail, other than following her lead.

To further confuse matters, Lia had given him gloves. A set of well-worn but beautiful beaded Dalish gloves very like his mother’s. Zevran had mentioned them in passing weeks ago, and then she tossed these gloves into his lap upon their return to their Dalish campsite, tired from fighting the shade that had made the enticing abandoned campsite. It was such a nonchalant gesture he almost hadn’t caught them, and when he did, he discovered another of those curious looks on her face when he gave his surprised and bewildered thanks.

The dancing flames of the campfire flickered on Lia’s short dark hair and highlighted her screwed-down mouth. She’d devoured her evening meal almost wordlessly, not even exchanging jokes with her fellow Warden about the terribleness of his cooking. He knew she didn’t really care about Alistair’s cooking because she ate with the familiar speed of someone who never knew where their next meal would come from. She always looked for more food, in fact, if there was any to be had.

This downturn of her mood further unnerved Zevran, and he couldn’t place why. No one else seemed to notice anything wrong. Alistair was caught up in cleaning his weapons and yawning, Leliana was humming and brushing her hair, and Wynne and Sten had retired into their respective tents. The witch had left for her own space, apart from the others, and Shale sat at the edge of camp, taking up the guard duty Lia had asked of the stone golem, Lia’s dog keeping her company. So when Zevran caught Lia’s eye across the campfire, a whim seized him. He raised his eyebrow at her in invitation.

Lia pressed her mouth together in a grim line, shoved her stick in the campfire, and pushed herself up to join him on the other side. She moved stiffly. The fighting earlier today must have taken a greater toll on her than even Wynne’s healing ability had been able to ease.

“Tsk tsk tsk. You look so tired, my dear,” he said as she approached. “It is all this walking and fighting. I think I know what you need.”

Lia sat down a short distance from him, radiating tension. She folded her arms with a smirk. “Oh? This I have to hear.”

He offered a cautious grin. She’d been receptive to his flirting before and had flirted back, but one never knew whether it was part of a game or sincere. He was curious, and this would be a good opportunity to understand her a little more. Perhaps show better gratitude for her gift.

“My thought is this: we retire to your tent and I show you the sort of massage skills that one only learns growing up in an Antivan whorehouse. It has been a long and taxing day and you seem in need of some…relaxation.” He stretched out his arms, lacing his hands together to emphasize his point. Besides, he was feeling a little stiff himself. Even if she refused his offer he’d need to stretch his muscles before bed.

“Are you suggesting what I think you are?” Lia said slowly, unfolding her arms. It was curious, watching her. She turned toward him, but she grew no less tense. An incredulous grin was spreading across her face, but something about her held back, guarded and perhaps even fearful. Was she…? No, certainly not. But he could also not afford for his erstwhile employer to take offense.

“If you mean to ask whether or not there might be more than a massage involved, allow me to simply say that you would not be disappointed with any of the techniques I’ve picked up over the years. Whatever you need, I can provide at your request,” Zevran replied, emphasizing the last two words to make himself clearer. It would be no great burden to him in any way she chose to take his offer, but if she understood what he was really asking, he rather thought it would be enjoyable and a nice distraction for them both. He could also get these odd concerns out of his head and continue on the Wardens’ mission. What was there to lose?

“That sounds good to me.” Lia rolled her shoulders. It was blasé and a little anticipatory of the promised massage. But she ducked her head a little as she spoke, her smile packed full of contradictions. It was shy and knowing, interested and wary. She scooted a little closer, calloused hands rubbing at her legs.

He knew the look of desire from his previous partners and he saw it again here, held in check. She’d been so very brash before, so why reserved now? Perhaps he’d been too subtle. While he caught a mildly curious glance from Leliana’s direction, still no one seemed to care that the two of them were even talking since it had become a regular occurrence. So: one last time. Just to be certain.

“A willing victim it is,” Zevran chuckled. He did not miss the reflexive alarmed dart of her eyes at his word choice. _Oh no._ He wiggled his fingers, softening his grin. Somewhere along the way he realized he’d become a little too eager. Still, she hadn’t flinched away and she’d been quite vocal about her opinions before. She would certainly have said something cutting and cruel by now if she were offended. “And if I might ask, if the opportunity to proceed past the massage should present itself…?”

Lia sucked in her lower lip and regarded him from under lowered lashes, sizing him up. There was a very appealing frankness to her gaze, which made the shaking of her hand as it moved to his knee puzzling.

“I’ll leave that up to you,” she said quietly, then flashed him a dazzling smirk. He exhaled.

 _“You must think I’m royally stupid.” “I think you’re royally tough to kill. And utterly gorgeous.”_ She’d given him that same smirk right after he said that. Never mind that earlier in that same conversation she’d rolled her eyes at him and wondered aloud if he’d been paid to talk her ear off - he knew at that moment she wasn’t going to kill him. He should have felt more dismayed but hadn’t been.

Well then. Time to get to work.

“Then why are we still talking?” Zevran grinned and held out his hand as he stood up. Lia squinted up at him, the beads on her braids clicking together, and snorted.

“Because you don’t know when to shut up,” she said, taking his hand and pulling herself up. Her grip was firm, her hand rough. It changed to a gentle pressure as she took the lead and pulled him toward her tent. Walking behind her let him see both Leliana and Alistair take notice, eyes widening and pausing in their tasks. He couldn’t help but grin even more at that. They put their trust in Lia and now Lia was trusting _him_.

“So, what do I do first?” she said, staring at him once they’d crawled inside.

“Take off your armor, of course. I cannot reach your muscles with it in the way,” he said, and began unbuckling his.

“Wait,” she said, and he stopped. “Why are you taking off yours?”

Zevran raised his eyebrow. “Have you never had a massage before?”

She gave him her best _are you stupid?_ look and snorted. “You’re kidding me, right? I’ve heard of them plenty, but massages aren’t handed out along with charity down in the alienage. You want one, you go to the Pearl. We use money for _food_.”

“So… let me see if I understand you clearly,” he said, trying to puzzle this out. “You have heard of massages and associate them with the Pearl, and yet you do not know why I would remove my armor for one?” This was beginning to sound like someone completely inexperienced, and it set him back on his heels.

Lia rolled her eyes. “I’m not stupid, Zevran, so you can stop treating me as if I am. I know a lot happens at the Pearl and some of it is fucking. I used to know a girl who worked there. She once mentioned massages and that they were good for relaxing muscles, but never had stories about those because everyone just wants to fuck the elf.”

“My apologies, it was not my intention to be rude. It will not happen again,” he said, both surprised and delighted at the crassness now spilling forth from her mouth. She was not far wrong, in his experience, but it still left her own level of experience in some question. “If you have never had a massage, what did you do before at the end of a hard day?”

She shrugged. “Many times I didn’t do anything but go to bed. Sometimes Shianni and I would scrape together a little coin and drink. A few times I found a – a friend – and we’d just… you know… fuck.” Lia stared at him, defiant, and he could almost swear he saw color rise in her cheeks in the near darkness. So, not as ignorant as he feared. He could have handled that, but this made him much more comfortable. She was like many other street rats he’d known, comfortable with casual encounters but never having known anything else.

Zevran chuckled. “If you are expecting me to judge you, that is the furthest thing from my mind. Why should we be ashamed in seeking pleasure with another? It is a pleasant diversion for as long as it lasts. So it is with a massage. I remove my armor and some clothing because I will be using my hands to relax your muscles, and that will require some closeness that will be uncomfortable with them poking against your skin,” he explained.

“So… it’s not quick,” she said, and another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Did no one remove their clothing and take their time in this accursed country? This was unacceptable.

“No, it is not,” he said firmly. “A good massage, like anything else intended to give pleasure, takes as long as necessary to completely satisfy.” He took her hand and ran his thumb over the pads of her palm. “And you are long overdue for satisfaction, my dear Warden.”

Lia closed her hand around his, bemused. “So show me, then.” She lifted her chin.

“Oh ho ho! You do not think I can. Well then, if you will allow me…” He disentangled his hand from hers and scooted forward, setting both hands on the floor of the tent on either side of her legs. Her eyes widened as he drew within an inch of her space, her breath hitching up shallow. “I would be very happy to show you the full range of my skills beyond a mere massage.”

He was not prepared to be pushed away with both arms. Surprised, he fell backward over his heels and onto his back. She followed it up with a curse and then scrambled forward to sit on him, straddling his chest. “We do this, we do it my way.” She frowned as she began undoing her armor. “Well, your way. But don’t you dare act like those shems, got me? If I don’t like it, you stop or I’ll…”

“No, no, of course.” Zevran watched her undress, suddenly secure in the knowledge that something else had happened in her past. Something bad. Nothing he was unfamiliar with, and yet… A yawning pit opened up in his stomach. This had already gone far beyond his expectations, and he had barely touched her. He could stop everything right here and he knew she would let him walk out of the tent. Part of him was urging that he do just that. But the rest of him thought of the gloves and the tenuous rapport that had been built, and the fact she was allowing herself to be vulnerable to him, and he couldn’t do it. He was going to stay and make good on his promises. “Whatever you desire.”

“Good,” she said. “So, uh, help me get this off? Then it’s your turn.” She stopped suddenly, gamine and coy. “You have more of those tattoos under there?”

“I do,” he replied, charmed at this turn of conversation. “I must warn you that if you wish to see them all, I will need to be completely nude.”

“Oh this I have to see,” Lia grinned and stopped undoing her armor. “Change of plan. You’re going first.” She bit her lower lip. “If that’s alright.”

“Let me propose a compromise, mm? We take off our armor first. And then you may help me – or not, as you wish – remove the rest for your enjoyment.” He waggled his eyebrows. She laughed and shoved at his armored chest.

“You are too much, I guess that’s why I like you.” She rolled off of him. “Fine, you get your compromise. It’s faster this way anyway.”

As Lia turned her attention back to her armor, Zevran grimaced unseen while he removed his own. Even for a bit of fun he disliked the idea of making it go faster. He’d make this properly enjoyable, it was unthinkable otherwise.

“We could help each other, you know,” he suggested, watching her squirm out of some light dwarven armor she said she’d found at the Circle of Magi. She struggled with it, frequently knocking against the side of the tent and swearing.

“I’ve got it.” She scowled and waved him off. “How am I supposed to get better at this if you help me?”

“While you have a good point, my Grey Warden, I am only offering this time,” he said with a bemused grin.

Lia sighed. “Fine. There’s a catch I can’t quite reach in the back…”

He scooted closer and squinted at her back. It was almost too dark to see. “Ahh, I think I see. This?” He tapped at it.

“That’s the one.”

He fiddled with it for a minute, then it sprang open. “There you go.”

Lia turned her head and affixed him with an accusing eye. “How can you be so terrible with locks but good with that?”

“It requires an entirely different motivation,” Zevran replied with a wink. “Do not get me wrong: I like money as much as the next person. But my talents are better suited for killing and love-making, which I infinitely prefer.”

She harrumphed and stripped the rest of the armor off, throwing the pieces into a corner of her tent and heedless of the noise it made. “Well, you’re good at the killing part, that I know.”

“I am good at the other as well,” he said, pulling off his boots. All the rest of his armor was neatly stacked by the door. He sat in his linens and undergarments, flexing his feet and watching Lia pull off her boots. Her hair was already a little disheveled and he imagined her face was flushed as well.

“I guess we’ll see about – _oh_.” She’d turned to face him again, down to her own linen layer, and raised her hand to her mouth, which had dropped open.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked. Out of her armor, the Warden looked smaller. A little softer. No less tough, but someone he was even more interested in touching.

“No,” Lia said, swallowing. “I’m just-“ She looked him over and bit her lower lip again. “You have more scars than I expected,” she said finally. She awkwardly moved closer and touched one that ran along his shin, normally covered by armor. It wasn’t a deep scar at all, just a scratch earned falling out of a window.

Zevran shrugged. “They are not so bad. They show I have survived. Besides, my dear Warden,” he said, grinning, “There are tattoos you wanted to see, I believe.”

“Yes,” she croaked, then coughed. He barely caught a muttered _you stupid_ before she pressed her lips together and closed the final bit of distance. She was indeed flushed and now laid a trembling hand on his linen shirt. Her hand felt small and warm on his chest. She was hesitating.

Zevran looked into her eyes and said quietly, “You are not obligated to do anything you do not desire.”

That decided her. Kneeling in her tent, a determined expression on her face, she set to work undoing the laces of his linen shirt. “Well, I do. Desire, that is.” Lia seemed to have a difficult time knowing where to look, flicking from his face to his chest and back again.

“Do you, now?” he said softly. He thought perhaps that might be the case, but given what he believed he had learned, he absolutely could not take that for granted. She was skittish. She said she would do things her way. He could be patient with that.

She nodded, concentrating on her task and saying nothing. With anyone else he would have begun doing the same, at least giving a preliminary taste of his massage skills through a layer of clothing. Perhaps he still would, but he had to be certain it would be welcomed, first. So he sat passively, hands in his lap, and waited.

Lia finished unlacing Zevran’s shirt and slowly pulled it open and over his shoulders, exhaling a shaky breath.

“ _Beautiful._ ” After a moment’s hesitation, she reached out and traced the swirling lines from his shoulder to his chest. Her touch was light and warm, whispering across his skin and raising gooseflesh. He smiled.

“Would you like to see more?” he said. Lia’s explorations were intriguing, to say the least. She seemed rather inspired, and wondered if she would continue to feel the same way if he disrobed further. He hoped so.

She dragged her eyes back up to his. Something flickered in their depths, battling with herself as she stared, hands resting temporarily forgotten on his skin.

“Yes,” Lia said finally, pulling off his shirt the rest of the way. She was surprisingly gentle, judging from the heat that now suffused her face. She ran her fingers across his tattoos again, more sure this time, the rasp of her callouses making his flesh tingle. They paused above the waist of the short linen breeches, palm and fingers splayed across his abdomen. Her thumb nudged the knot that held his breeches closed. “Can I…?”

“You may.” He scooted forward and leaned back. He thought about touching her face. He wondered how a simple offer had led to this. And as she untied the knot, so close he could have kissed her neck and licked the salt from her skin, he wondered how she would taste.

The knot undone, she picked at the lacings and loosened them with delicate care. It was impossible for her not to touch him as he lay quiescent under her hands. It was almost arousing, the little nudges here and there. He listened to her breathing faster in the darkness as she opened him up and began to peel away another layer.

“Lift up,” she said, and he obeyed, hips rising from the ground. She made a low sound in the back of her throat, some kind of groan quickly stifled, her hands grasping at his breeches and drawing them down his hips and off his buttocks. This… this part she had likely meant to be detached and impersonal but felt nothing like it. No simple, tentative touch was this but a firm glide from his thighs down his legs. It started a tingling awareness in his skin, a shift from pleasantness to arousal.

Still, Zevran could have quashed that and picked up his things and left if she asked.  But the prospect of doing so became much dimmer in his mind when, pants divested, her hands made the return journey first over scars and then the remainder of his tattoos on hips and thighs. With a gusty sigh she bent down and ran her tongue up one particularly long swirl that ended curled up over his waist.

It was so unexpected in the moment he sucked in his breath. He thought they might build to this, but the sudden sweep of sensation was far from unwelcome.

Lia raised her head, her dark brown eyes almost black with the weight of wanting. “Sorry, I shouldn’t-“

He shook his head and this time he reached out, brushing his fingers against her lower lip. She’s bitten it enough the skin is a little frayed but still soft. “Why apologize? It is why they are there.”

She didn’t blink. “I didn’t ask.”

“Then let me make it clearer for you: the answer is yes, along with anything else you wish to do.” Zevran removed his fingers from her face and she licked her lip. “But right now, I would very much like to kiss you.”

“Yeah?” She went back to touching him, still fascinated with his tattoos but now branching away from them to the rise and dip of his muscles. She pulled her own body along the wake of her wandering, straddling him once more. Now she was a dense and touchable presence, right in his lap and drawing willingly into the space he’d invaded moments before. Lia brushed her lips against his and he responded with a return of gentle pressure and a darting of his tongue.

As he hoped, she chased after it, surging forward. Whatever abysmal experiences she’d had before, she was making up for in imagination. A little frisson passed through him as the kiss deepened. He was momentarily disappointed when she broke it off and drew back a little, settling onto his legs.

“What else?” she asked, her voice gone low and husky.

“I would like to touch you,” Zevran said, raising a hand to Lia’s face again, this time his fingers going to her cheek. They followed the lines inked onto her face. “I, too, am curious if there is more to be seen elsewhere.”

Lia looked down, breaking eye contact and shrugging. “You can, but… nothing special.”

“No?” He exhaled and placed his hands on her hips. She was wiry and lean with little give. He’d seen her climb trees and stone alike with ease. Slay demons with bared blades and sheer determination. This fearfulness threw him off.  “All the same. I am interested.”

“Alright,” she said, and looked up again, still not quite meeting his eyes. “Alright.” She closed her eyes and leaned forward to kiss him again, undoing her linen shirt swiftly. He slid his hands up along her sides, thumbs brushing her ribcage. The kiss was hungry, but she sighed into his mouth.

“I want to see,” he whispered, and she reluctantly withdrew, sitting up. The sides of her shirt hung loosely; he took the edges and opened them as she had with his shirt. She had small breasts held close to her chest with what may have been a borrowed breast band. Underneath them, however, ran a ropey pink scar that slanted down her abdomen. A smaller scar wavered above one breast.

Zevran ran his hand along the big scar. It carried the softness of something healed by magic, not a wound worn by time. If he had to judge, the other had also been earned at the same time, and both imperfectly healed. He knew wounds and desperation. These… He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to the smaller, his tongue darting out to taste the seam. It held the tang of her sweat, the musk of which came as pleasantly to his nose as the surprised noise she made to his ears.                                            

“What… that’s not…”

“It is.” He stroked her abdomen and looked up at her conflicted face. “’Nothing special’ could not have bested me and brought me here.” He sat up now, taking hold of her shirt once more, and coaxed her in for a searing kiss. She moaned and responded to it fiercely, her tongue in his mouth as if he were water after a long, dry spell. It robbed him a little of his breath and made his skin tingle. He finished removing her shirt and smoothed his hands up her back. Soft skin, several more scars he could feel crisscrossing the ridges of muscle and bone.

It was the plaintive sound she made right then that broke him. It was desire long unheeded and despaired finally given answer and voice. It touched something within him he’d thought long buried, even in the midst of his mourning. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, chest to chest, without thinking.

Lia settled over his slowly stirring groin with another subdued, wanton noise and broke the kiss. She curled her hands, still trapped between them, her short nails lightly scoring his skin. He hummed, enjoying the feel of her pressed against him. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

“You’re such a liar, but I don’t care. Just make it good,” she sighed, then caught his earlobe with her tongue and gently bit.

The strange pang of disappointment that followed on her words disappeared under a surge of determination and excitement. Zevran was on surer ground here. His hands roamed under her breastband and he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of her neck, lips and tongue and teeth plucking a symphony of music from her throat. Lia clutched at him, writhing in response, the shuddering of her body travelling down her spine to where it rested against him.

“Let me…,” he began.

Lia pulled her hands up and undid the worn strings of the breastband. The sad fabric sagged open with her breasts. She pulled back a little to allow him to take it and he did, looking up at her fierce face as he drew the scrap away.

“I told you. My way,” she said.

“Not my way, then?” he said, then dropped his gaze back down to her chest. Her nipples were large and several shades darker than the rest of her skin. He swept his hands from her back to her front, fingers trailing along the undersides of her breasts and his thumbs gently teasing the very tips. They pebbled under his touch.

“Fuck,” she hissed, clenching her legs together. It made her grind against him for a brief moment. Oh, he wanted now. He grinned, light-headed, at her. “Asshole. Do it again.”

“The things you say…,” he said, obliging. He was rewarded with a deeper groan and her body rocking forward into his touch. He was a little dizzy now, seized with the thought of how much more responsive she could be elsewhere. Meanwhile, this was more than fine. He molded his hands to her, supple flesh moving under his roving palms.

“Asshole,” she repeated. “You’re playing with me.” Her eyes were unfocused.

“ _With_ you, yes,” Zevran said, bending forward to nip at her lips. Her nipples were soft beads now and her breath was ragged. He wasn’t sure she’d noticed yet how much she was trembling, and how it was affecting him. There was a faint, tingling pressure in his belly.

“I don’t see you getting anything from this,” she glared, biting her lower lip again. She seemed offended that she was enjoying herself, and he chuckled.

“Oh, but I am,” Zevran replied, turning his caresses into a light pinching. Her mouth fell open and her eyes fluttered shut. “I can show you, if you like.”

Lia was silent for a while. Her eyebrows drew down, turning her unfettered pleasure into intense concentration. Then her eyes snapped open and attempted to focus on him, staring him down as he continued touching her.

“All of them,” was all she said as she withdrew, awkwardly pushing herself backward from his lap and off of his legs in the small space. She jostled the canvas wall and it flapped in the night breeze. Before she readjusted herself away from the wall to sit, spread-legged and knees bent in front of her, she looked small clad only in the linen layers left to her below the waist. Her nipples were still puckered, whether from the colder air or lingering reaction to his touch. Some unguarded expression had flickered on her face in between, and it didn’t strike him until much later while he reviewed what had happened between them that she’d chosen to place her trust in him as more than just a tool against the Blight.

“As you wish,” Zevran replied with a half-smile. The weight of her gaze didn’t quite make up for the lack of her, but he felt it keenly nonetheless as he readjusted his own position to remove his last garment. It intensified as he began pulling it down. She sucked in a breath noisily, actually seeing him and the affect she’d had on him now. Even half-erect it was obvious.

“It’s not fair,” she said wistfully.

He finished removing his smalls, twisting to set them with the rest of his discarded clothing. “Mm? What is?”

“How you can be just…,” Lia said, hugging her knees and chewing on the inside of her cheek. She made no effort to hide she liked what she saw, which he liked, but she also seemed at a loss. Her mouth twisted. “Never mind. Past is the past, and you’re here now.”

“Of course I am,” he said, bemused. “Where else would I go?”

Lia shook her head sadly. “Anywhere but here.” She unfolded her limbs, crawled closer to the middle of the tent, and slowly pushed herself to her feet.

He’d been lounging and leaning back, and he tensed. He’d said the wrong thing. If she was going to leave, then-

But she just stood there by the center pole, her head a little awkwardly tilted in a tent otherwise tall for the likes of them, her mouth pursed worriedly as she looked down at him. She self-consciously ran her hands over her scarred abdomen before pulling at the laces on her breeches. Another image he’d remember for a very long time. He relaxed and watched her avidly instead.

“People like you aren’t meant for the likes of me,” Lia said quietly, “I know that. So do me a favor and keep lying to me.” Laces undone, she hooked her thumbs into the waist and pushed, the beads in her braids clicking as she bent. The linens slid down, her smalls trailing after them as both left her hips and dropped to the tent floor. A dark thatch of curls was tucked in the juncture of her sleekly muscled thighs. She stepped out of the discarded clothing and then stood trembling, hands fisting. Faintly the light from the campfire leaked through the tent flaps and limned her slim-hipped body. “Do you want me?”

Zevran felt it like a shout, his cock twitching. “I do. And I will not lie to you about that, my Warden.”

“Then show me. Make me believe it.” She took several steps and then sank to her knees in front of him. He surged up to meet her, reaching out to cup her face and bring it in for a kiss.

That same thirsty mouth crashed into him, her nose bumping his before readjusting, her tongue seeking his. He moved his hands, fingers splayed, into her hair to draw her closer and her body followed, her hands clutching his hips like an anchor. A jolt passed through him as first her nipples brushed against his chest then molded to him with the rest of her body, skin to skin and hip to hip. She was shaking and hot to the touch. The feel of her naked against his groin made his pulse pound loudly in his ears for a moment. A whimper escaped her, passing into him through her silken tongue and travelling down his spine. It elicited an answering groan and a gentle flexing of his hips against her.

Lia’s fingers dug into his skin, swaying into him. She pulled her mouth away for a moment, gasping for air.

“Oh fuck. I need… I need…,” she said, breathing the words, her dark eyes searching his face.

“I think I know,” Zevran said, chasing after her delightful mouth with kiss after kiss. He withdrew one hand from her hair to stroke down the column of her neck, roam over her collarbone, and palm a breast. Her whimper turned sharper as he flicked her nipple with his thumb. He kissed his way to her ear.

“Will you trust me?” he whispered, and he felt her nod against his cheek. He smiled and ran his hand down her flank and over her abdomen, caressing her scar before moving his hand further downward to rest between her thighs. Her curls were warm and damp against his fingers. She let out a moaning cry so like the first that truly stirred him he couldn’t help himself from groaning. He slipped a finger against her seam and she dug her nails into his hips, trembling violently in reaction.

Lia was incredibly wet and he desperately wanted to taste her. His cock twitched and it brushed against her thigh, inflaming them both. She was panting, and he wanted… he wanted…

“I want to bury myself in you and make love to you until the Maker hears you sing,” he husked in her ear, slowly pressing a finger into her wetness as she bucked. “But first I would taste you, _querida_.”

She rested her forehead on his shoulder, slumping weak-kneed against his hand. He dragged his finger back, fingertip questing for her little bud. It slicked along her folds until he found it, coating it in her wetness before circling. He alternated between that and sweeping his finger back for more, always a firm and slow insertion.

“Please, please, please.” It was somewhere between a babble and a prayer, a catch in her voice. She was unraveling fast, bringing him along with her. Some other time he could perhaps spread her out like a slow feast for hours at a time, but this time he was caught up in the rush that swept through him, some thundering force he didn’t want to deny.

“Soon,” he promised. “Lay back for me, please.”

Lia released her grip on his hip. He watched her drag herself up as he stroked her, overcome with pleasure and shuddering from the effort, until she met his eyes with steely determination. Her fingers ghosted along his side and down along his front until they found his cock. Her slim and calloused hand slid around it to grip him, hard and full, triumphantly. He felt his balls drawing tighter, pressure in his belly mounting in urgency.

“My. Way,” she gritted. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “Please.” Maker, she was magnificent.

“Yours,” Zevran conceded with a smile. This was another fight against her he did not want to win. Not when the outcome was an entirely different death altogether.

Her expression softened again along with her hand, which stroked along his length with a kind of wonder. It changed the tenor of his urgency but did not lessen it. He withdrew his own hand from her and brought it to his mouth, suckling on the finger he’d probed her with – she was more than salt and savor on his tongue, she was also musky-sweet to his nostrils. He was ready to drown in it.

“Please,” Lia repeated, glancing from his mouth to his eyes, and began retreating backward, reclining. She released her hold on his cock reluctantly so she could catch herself, laying back on the mussed bedroll. Still he followed after her on hands and knees, pausing between her bent legs to lower his head and nose into her mound. He inhaled deeply and flicked his tongue out for another taste. Oh yes, this was worth revisiting, if she desired.

She writhed against his tongue with an incoherent curse and pushed her hands into his hair, snagging briefly on his braids and tugging. The slight twinge of pain was worth it to hear her gasping out for him, realizing that perhaps it was loud enough to be heard by the rest of the camp and happily unconcerned about it. The lewd utterance was followed by a stuttered and quieter plea to make good on his whispered promise.

Zevran drew himself up the rest of the way where she lay, lips and tongue discovering the other flavors and sensations of her skin.  With her hands still in his hair, now cradling his face, she pulled him in for more of her thirsty kisses as he covered her body with his. He was nestled between her legs, his cock pressing and throbbing against her belly, and he began to ache.

“ _Querida_ ,” he groaned as she arched beneath him.                 

Lia carefully extricated her hands from his hair to run her hands down his back, settling on his hips. “Shhh. Show me.”

It was more her eagerness that made Zevran miss the first time, sliding against her instead (her reaction to which was both comical and arousing to watch, he thought). But he leaned back to grip her legs and hold her steady for the second try, determined to get it right and bring her the satisfaction she deserved. Now better able to see her fully opened up to him, Zevran slowly sheathed himself in her and watched her face transform into sheer ecstasy. In all his experience, he thought he had never seen anything so glorious in his life at the same time as he lost any further ability to think or speak beyond bringing them both to completion.

It was a fine time all around, though he couldn’t pinpoint with any clarity at all as to why it affected him any more than other encounters with the men and women who passed through his life. Perhaps it was the simple fact that his fate was now tied to the Warden, for good or ill, for however long she deemed him of use for her cause. Aside from Rinna and Taliesin, an association which the Crows had turned a blind eye to, no one else had ever had a similar claim on his time.

As Lia began to drowse in her bedroll, their previous exertions having put an easier smile on her face, she mumbled something at Zevran while he was redressing.

“Hmm? What was that?”

“I didn’t get my massage.” The accusation was ruined by her sleepy smirk.

He chuckled. “I knew this would happen. Perhaps I should have warned you when you refused to kill me.”

She stretched and then curled her arm under her pillow. An odd piece of brightly colored fabric poked out and she stuffed it back in. “You’re practically a public menace,” she agreed.

“It’s true, they used to issue warnings about me at the Antivan border,” he chuckled again. “So,” he said as he finished tying his breeches and considering the potential of a repeat performance, “as the priestess said so famously to the handsome actor, what now?”

Her mouth pursed thoughtfully. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” Her fingers absently tapped and traced shapes into her bedroll. “I’m used to sex for exercise, but I don’t know what I’d call _that._ I liked it a lot, but… I don’t want things to get awkward,” she said with a cautious shrug. Her hand smoothed out her invisible doodles.

Zevran quirked a half-smile. Her thoughts were much the same as his, so it seemed.

“Then allow me to make it simple for you, my Grey Warden. What comes next is entirely up to you. I was raised to take my pleasures where they could be found, for they do not come very often.” His grin deepened a little apologetically for the pun. “I shall ask nothing more of you than you are willing to give.”

“That sounds fine by me.” She exhaled, clearly relieved and pleased as well. “Go get some sleep. I may need that massage tomorrow.” Lia rolled over onto her back and faced the ceiling of her tent, her voice gone heavy. “We have to face more werewolves. I don’t want anyone catching that curse.”

Zevran shrugged. The distraction had been good while it lasted. “I’ll be fine. I would make a very handsome werewolf, in any case.”

Her voice sharpened. “I said ‘anyone,’ asshole, and I meant it.”

“As you command, my Grey Warden,” he said, and laughed as she cursed and threw a sock at him before he left her tent. His grin might have widened as he sauntered past Alistair, who regarded him with disapproval but said nothing to him for once. In a way, Zevran hoped the younger man had overheard.

But as he crawled into his own tent and lay down to sleep, still smelling so strongly of Lia, he also hoped Alistair did not overhear everything. Some things were not to be shared. Perhaps some things not even said. Maybe he should have stopped talking.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the sin of reusing some of the canon dialogue, but I feel it helps the reader get into the story a bit better, and I get to provide some insight into the choices made. ymmv.


End file.
